If We Could Start Over
by SisiDraig - 2
Summary: Just another Brian/Justin fic set after the end of the final series! They miss each other... of course they do.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first QAF fic and I haven't been a fan of the show for that long so please be gentle with me. This is set sometime (lets call it 6 months) after the last episode.**

**D/C: I own nothing and make no money!! I'm just a poor student who is unwilling to accept of the official ending! =D**

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"And then Hunter was…" Michael looked at the glassy expression on his friend's face. "…dancing in a tutu for money," he finished.

"That's nice," Brian mumbled, running his finger around the rim of his whiskey glass. Michael sighed. He wasn't exactly surprised that Brian was ignoring him. It happened every now and again, the 'I don't give a fuck' exterior would crumble and he'd sit at the bar in Woody's like a pathetic love-sick faggot.

"You could ring him if," Michael suggested.

Brian's eyes slid suddenly sideways in their sockets and he stared at him.

"Ring who?" he muttered.

"Oh don't give me that bullshit. You haven't been the same since Justin left for New York."

Brian didn't reply. He just went back to staring at his whiskey.

"Say something," Michael encouraged.

"What do you want from me, Mikey?"

"I want you to ring him."

"And say what?"

"Find out how he is, ask him how his painting's going," Michael paused, before adding, "tell him you miss him."

"I'm sure he's fine. We all know he's the next Picasso. And, he already knows. There." Brian turned to look at Michal with a smug expression on his face. "I don't need to phone him."

Michael sighed again and squeezed Brian's shoulder comfortingly, before taking a long swig of his own drink.

"I'm selling Babylon," Brian suddenly announced.

"What?!" Michael exclaimed, glad for the sake of the barman that he'd swallowed his drink before Brian had spoken.

"I've been thinking a lot recently."

"That's worryi-"

Brian suddenly put his hand over Michael's mouth and squeezed a little.

"Don't say it. It's cliché Mikey," he warned. Michael nodded and Brian let go and continued, "I was thinking about what you said about things never changing in Babylon. And you're right, Babylon doesn't change. It isn't supposed to change but … well, I think I am. I'm getting too …." He stopped and sighed heavily, "I'm getting too old."

"I don't believe what I'm hearing."

"Yeah, well believe it. It's time I grew up Mikey. It's time I became more like you."

--

"He said that?" exclaimed Debbie, after Michael finished explaining what had happened the night before.

"Yeah, just before he told some really hot guy he wasn't in the mood and went home … alone." Michael thought for a second before concluding, "Do you think he's sick?"

"Yeah, love sick maybe. Sounds like Sunshine leaving like that has really got to him." Debbie put a cup of coffee and the diner's best lemon slice in front of her son.

"Thanks." He took a sip of his drink. "And ofcourse Justin leaving got to him. He did ask him to marry him," Michael pointed out. "Brian Kinney actually opened up and said he loved someone and then that person left. I don't understand. How could he do that to Brian?"

"Do what to me?" Brian asked slumping in the chair next to Michael. He was wearing his most expensive leather coat and his favourite suit, which he always did when he needed to cheer himself up. And then there were his sunglasses, hiding the million secrets that his eyes would reveal.

"Er, nothing." Michael lied. Brian stared at him for moment but he didn't say anything, he just took Michael's coffee and began to drink.

"So, er, what are you planning on doing tonight?" Michael asked.

"Finish work at six. Six, thirty at the gym. Dinner at eight." he droned in a monotone, "Woody's by nine. Ten o'clock, mope about like some lovelorn breeder. Ten thirty, write a romantic letter. Eleven o clock suicide."

"What?"

"I'm kidding. Will you stop worrying about what I'm doing every minute of the day. You never worried this much before. Being a housewife must have rubbed off on you."

"I'm not worried. Just I'm busy tonight and so're Emmet and Ted. I just don't want you to be alone."

"I'm never alone," Brian promised. "I've always got somewhere to be; someone to fuck."

"Right," Michael nodded. "Well, I better go, I'm meeting Ben."

"Away to married bliss," scorned Brian as his friend left the diner.

"Hey!" Debbie called at him from the other side of the counter.

"What now?"

"It wasn't so long ago you were considering getting married yourself. There's no need to go back to hating it."

"Why not? It doesn't work. I didn't even get to the aisle and it didn't work. I say we leave marriage for the god-fearing breeders and they can leave _us _to what we do best."

"And what exactly would that be Brian?"

"Sucking and fucking."

"Really? Coz word on the street is, you ain't been doing much of either of those lately."

"What lying piece of shit told you that?"

"It's not just one person."

"Well they're all lying," he said, and; "Can I get a goddamn coffee!? I'm in a rush!"

Debbie slammed the cardboard cup in front of him.

"Thanks," he said picking it up with a tired smirk, before getting up to leave.

Just as he reached the door to the diner, he heard Debbie call his name. He span around to look at her.

"What?"

"Nice necklace," she said. The smallest of knowing smiles pulling at the sides of her mouth.

Brian didn't say a word. He just took another sip of his coffee and walked out onto the cold streets. As he walked down liberty avenue, his hand found it's way to his necklace. He tugged it free from it's position tucked under his shirt. It wasn't anything special, just a chain like any other he might wear, but on the end of the chain were two identical rings. When it had come down to it, he hadn't been able to return them. Because when it had come down to it, he hadn't been able to give up all hope. Not just yet.

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**It's only short to get me started and make sure I've got the characters and Americanisms okay.**

**Please review! xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for reviewing!!!**

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"Argh!" Justin cried, slamming his pencil down on the table. It was less than three seconds before Kelly was at his side asking what was wrong. That was the problem with sharing a flat this small with someone as nosey as Kelly. He liked her. She was nice, had a steady job and she didn't get on his case if he couldn't always give his full share of the rent. She let him leave his paintings all over the floor most of the time but she couldn't just leave him alone, not even for a minute.

"Well," she repeated, perching herself on the very edge of the table, "what's up?"

"Nothing."

She raised an eyebrow, her brown eyes fixing him with a disbelieving glare, which made Justin squirm like a worm on a fishing line.

"Don't look at me like that," he moaned.

"Well, don't lie to me," she countered, pushing her bushy red hair behind her shoulders. "Why are you doing Tarzan impressions?"

"Tarzan?"

"You were roaring."

"What?"

"Look, just tell me what's wrong!"

Justin frowned and looked down at his work. Kelly followed his gaze. The picture was of Brian. Every other picture was. It looked just like all the others except in a rarity this picture was of Brian with his clothes on.

"It's good."

"It's not!" Justin moaned, "I can't draw him properly anymore."

"What are you talking about? That's perfect. It looks just like the picture." Kelly picked up the photo of Brian and Justin and studied it carefully. They weren't doing anything particularly exciting. They were just hanging out in a bar but they looked happy. Kelly knew the photo meant a lot to her friend. It was never far from his sight.

"Exactly," Justin snapped, snatching the photo from her hand and looking at it, "I need to use this now. I used to just know what he looked like. I could close my eyes and see him, every line of his face every bit of shading, every freckle, every scar. Now, now I need a fucking picture." He slammed the photo on the desk, and looked at his flatmate before whispering, "he's fading, Kelly."

"Fading?"

"Fading," Justin repeated, "and there's nothing I can do to stop it."

"Maybe you could get him to visit."

"He wouldn't do that. He's got too much going on in Pittsburgh."

"Too much going on … in Pittsburgh? What is there to do in Pittsburgh exactly?"

"There's lots of things to do on Liberty Avenue."

"Liiiiike?"

"Well … there's Babylon and Woody's and the diner."

"And?"

"… Babylon."

"You said that."

"Well, he owns it. He can't leave it."

"Not even for a weekend?"

Justin didn't answer. He couldn't answer. Truth was, Brian could easily leave Pittsburgh behind for one measly weekend but Justin wasn't sure if he _would _come and visit or if he'd even want to. It had been over six months since Justin had left and they hadn't even spoken once. Six months. 24 weeks. 183 days or more importantly nights, making it roughly 183 one night stands. No, this is Brian. 193 one night stands. Justin sighed heavily. Brian probably wouldn't even remember his name.

"Why don't you just call him?" Kelly's voice cut through his thoughts of self-pity.

"Huh?"

"Call him. See if he wants to visit."

"He won't want to," Justin said, crumpling up his drawing of Brian and throwing it at the bin. Of course he missed.

Justin had decided to go for a walk to clear his head a bit and get some inspiration for his new drawing. Kelly had decided to snoop around her flatmate's things. She couldn't understand anything about Justin's old life. It all seemed so complicated. They'd spent the majority of their drunken heart-to-hearts trying to define exactly what Justin and Brian's relationship was or had been but, usually, it would end with Justin saying something overtly profound like 'it's impossible to define perfection' before passing out on the wooden floorboards.

Kelly searched through his stuff being careful not to dislodge anything that might give away that she'd been snooping. She hadn't really expected to stumble across his phone, in fact she wasn't sure what she was looking for, she just needed some way of contacting his old life. Then, the phone in the flat rang and his old life contacted her.

"Hello?"

"Is that you Sunshine?" Debbie asked happily.

"Sunshine?"

"Justin."

"Oh. He's out at the moment."

"Well, where'd he go?"

"I'm not really sure. Just out."

"So who the hell are you?"

"My names Kelly. I live with him. Well, he lives with me."

"Oh. My name's Debbie."

"Right. Yeah, he spoke about you." Debbie beamed to herself proudly. "Didn't he mention me?" Kelly asked."Sorry honey but I've hardly spoken to him…" Debbie trailed of apologetically. Michael looked at his mother. He'd told her not to phone Justin but everyone knows you can't stop Debbie Novotny when she gets an idea in her ginger-wigged head.

"It's okay. He never seems to talk much at all. Unless he's talking about Brian."

"Of course."

Michael heard the strange tone in his mother's voice and looked at her questioningly. 'Brian', she mouthed to her son. Michael nodded. Wasn't it always Brian?

"Actually, I'm trying to get hold of him."

"Who, Brian? You and the rest of the world Sweetie."

"But Justin needs him, to draw. It's like he's lost all his inspiration."

"Hmmm. I'll give you his number. But don't expect him to talk to you. He won't talk to anyone at the moment."

"Okay. Thanks."

Debbie hung up the phone and looked at Michael.

"Poor Sunshine," she sighed. "Sound's like he's really missing Brian."

"Brian's missing him," Michael said. "He won't admit it but he is."

"Brian's never admitted anything in his life. No apologies, no regrets. Remember? Now, sit down at the table. I've made Meatloaf."

Justin crashed through the door and fell dramatically onto the sofa burying his head in the ratty cushions.

"Hey!" called Kelly from what they loosely described as 'the kitchen'.

The response was completely muffled by cushion.

"Good walk?"

Again the response was just an indecipherable mumbling.

"I don't speak cushion," frowned Kelly, slapping her friend gently on the back of the head. "How was your walk?"

Justin moved his head to the side so he could breath. "I said, it was boring. And pointless. I don't feel inspired at all."

"Hmm," she sighed, "well maybe this will help." She gave Justin a piece of paper with a mobile number on it."What's this?"

"It's a number."

"A number for who."

"Some guy, he said he's been trying to get hold of you for a while."

"Oh. Right. Did he leave a name?"

"No."

"Hmm." Justin looked at the number ahead of him. There was something vaguely familiar about it but he couldn't work out what. Oh well, he'd give it a ring in the morning and see what it had to offer.

"So this is it. The end of an era." Michael looked out over his best friend's kingdom as the bouncers cleared the last of the stragglers from the backroom.

"Mmm," Brian hummed his agreement. "Today, the greatest club liberty avenue has ever seen. Tomorrow, Rainbow Starbucks."

"Wait, it's not staying as a club?"

"Nope. Apparently, it's not financially viable. Popper's is where the young kids go, Babylon is old news." Brian gave a hollow chuckle as he saw that Brandon bloke from the ten man shagathon being dragged from the backroom his trousers around his ankles. "Like us," he added. Brandon spotted Brian watching him and winked. Brian just looked away. He couldn't be bothered to take on the youngsters anymore. He'd said it before. He was getting to old for this.

Michael frowned. He didn't like this new Brian. He didn't fight anymore. It was like he couldn't be bothered. The fight in him had gone. But where? To New York to pursue a career in art?

"Mr Kinney." Brian looked up to see a man in a smart suit holding his hand out. Brian shook it.

"You must be Jonathon."

"Yeah."

"Well, Jon. She's all yours." Brian gestured widely to the club. "Do with it what you will."

"So, what are you gonna do with all that extra money?" Michael asked as he and Brian left Babylon for the final time.

"What extra money?"

"The money you got from selling this place."

"Oh. I dunno. Maybe a Porsche or a jeep. Or a Porsche 4x4. The ultimate fuckmobile. What do you think?"

"Ooooor…." Michael trailed off. It wasn't worth it, Brian would only shout at him.

"Ooooor," Brian repeated in exactly the same tone, "_what_?"

Michael shook his head but Brian just stared at him until his resolve crumbled to dust.

"You could fund a trip to see Justin," he suggested.

"No," Brian snapped.

"No? Why not? It's obvious you miss him. And I'm sure he misses you."

"Just leave it Michael! It was nice while it lasted but now ... it's over; just like Babylon."

"But…"

"Stop!" Brian interrupted. "Just go home, Mikey. You're husband will be missing you." And without another word he strode off down liberty avenue getting lost in the rising steam.

* * *

Justin dialled the number and held the phone to his ear. He'd been staring at it for a good ten minutes but he still couldn't work out why it was so familiar. It seemed to ring forever and Justin was just thinking about hanging up when a woman answered.

"Hello?"

"Erm, hi. My names Justin Taylor."

"You're kidding me," said the woman in a weird half laugh, half breath.

"Er, no."

"What the hell are you ringing me for? Wait there, I'll get him for you now."

Justin frowned. This was all very weird. He heard the muffled sound of someone moving the phone around. Maybe this woman was crazy and he'd end up back on the phone to her but she'd be putting on a man's voice. Well, he'd come across weirder people in the artistic underworld of New York.

He could just about make out the muted mumbles of a conversation going on and then he heard a man's voice getting louder but still not talking to him.

"This better be urgent Cynthia," it was saying, "I've been trying to bag this client for weeks."

"It's Justin," he heard the woman's voice whisper.

"Justin," the man repeated in a dumbfound breath.

Justin strained his ears to hear more but there was nothing else to hear. Whoever this man was, he'd been completely silenced by the fact Justin had phoned him. The blonde boy frowned. Who could be _so_ interested in his paintings? And who was this woman? Suddenly, he heard his name being spoken down the phone and he jumped too dumbstruck to speak.

"Justin," the man repeated. Except it wasn't just some man and it wasn't an art critic. Justin would recognise his name being said like that anywhere. It was,

"Brian?"

"Well who the fuck d'you think you're gonna talk to if you ring my secretaries number?"

"I didn't know it was your…." Justin trailed off. _That _waswhy he'd recognised the number. It was Cynthia's. But how had Kelly got hold of that? Oh, he could think about that later. "How are you?" he asked.

"I'm good, really good. Excellent actually. You?"

"Yeah, same."

"I bet you don't miss Pittsburgh."

"Not really." Brian's heart sunk. "Except … well, I miss you." And rose again.

Justin heard someone shouting angrily in the background.

"Hang on," Brian apologized. Justin heard Brian arguing then next second, "I'm gonna have to go. I'll call you later."

Dial tone.

Justin just stared at the phone and sighed. It was obvious Brian had more important things in his life than him now.


	3. Chapter 3

**I was quite nervous about this one because it's my first QAF fic so thanks for all your comments. They mean a lot! **

**I'm aware this chapters quite long but I suddenly had an idea for this story i needed to scribble down... =D I hope this isn't too British - i've tried to put the American words where i can but i'm sure i'll have missed some!**

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Justin decided categorically that he would _not _stay in and wait for Brian to call back. So he stayed in and worked on an art project he'd started instead. Kelly stayed in with him and insisted on asking him about his phone call with Brian over and over until he decided to make some feeble excuse about having a headache and went to bed early. He tucked his cell phone under his pillow and placed the flat's phone on the floor beside him and closed his eyes, not waiting for the phone to ring, which was lucky because Brian never called back.

--

"What's the point of going all the way up there? You can't do anything about it."

"I can be there, for my son. Besides you wouldn't think twice if it was Jenny Rebecca, who'd broken her arm. Out of my way," Brian pushed past Michael and grabbed some socks and pants from his draw dropping them into his duffel bag.

"I'd have to consider the store first. _And_ I'd be thinking about my best friend's birthday!"

"That's the beauty of being your own boss and … what birthday?"

"_My_ birthday you asshole!"

"Oh _that_ birthday," Brian said as though this was all new information to him as he threw a pair of jeans into the bag too. He frowned for a second before asking, "when is that again?"

"Saturday!"

"Not long now. Thirty-five Mikey, a whole year closer to amnesia, arthritis and perverted nurses in stinking care homes," Brian held up a shirt against himself and looked in the mirror before throwing it in to his bag and adding; "remind me again why you're celebrating."

"Because some of us happen to like the idea of growing old with the man we love."

"Well not me. I don't believe in growing old and I _don't _believe in love."

"You're so full of shit," Michael chuckled, half because it was funny and half because it was unbelievable. "There was a time when you were gonna give up _everything_ for the man you love."

"That's before I remembered what a fickle and pathetic lie love was. I'm just one of the lucky few who came to their senses in time. Pass me those sunglasses."

Michael picked up the glasses of the bedside table and handed them to his friend, "that's not the point. This'll my first birthday you've ever missed since we've met."

"Look," Brian stopped his somewhat frantic packing and grabbed Michael's shoulders, "I'll only be gone a couple of days. We'll _celebrate,_" he said the word as though it had carried a particularly horrible taste on his tongue, "your birthday when I'm back. Okay?" He kissed Michael gently on the lips.

"But…"

Brian let out a loud sigh of frustration and went back to his packing. "Michael! Will you give it a rest? I'm going to see my son."

Michael frowned. "Fine," he sulked, "but you better get me something good."

"Don't I always?" Brian smirked.

"No! One year you gave me a watch you'd found on the street."

"Are you still bringing that up? I was seventeen and I was broke. You should let that go."

"Mmm."

"Right, I'm all packed."

"Okay, have a good trip."

Brian nodded. Flung his bag over his shoulder and pushed Michael out of the loft ahead of him. As they parted on the streets he said, "Happy Birthday, Mikey!"

--

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY SWEETIE!" Debbie cried, putting the biggest birthday cake anyone had ever seen down in front of her son.

"Mom!" He moaned as the whole diner burst into song.

"What?" she croaked happily. "Can't I be proud of my gorgeous son?"

"I certainly am," Ben smiled, leaning in to kiss Michael.

"Oh give it a rest, I want cake," laughed Hunter, diving through the middle of his dad's 'moment' to get the first slice. Ben and Michael just laughed.

"It's a shame JR couldn't be here," Michael sighed, "and Brian."

"Well, that couldn't be helped, could it?" Debbie sighed. "If Gus hadn't broken his arm we could have all been here, the family reunited. Except Sunshine of course."

"What's this about me?"

Everyone turned to look and there, in the doorway to the diner, stood Justin. A big grin on his face.

"Sunshine!" Debbie cried, running over to him and smothering him with a highly perfumed hug. "What a nice surprise!"

"Thanks Deb," he grinned. "And Happy Birthday Michael," he said, handing over a present. "It's not much. It's about all I can afford."

Michael unrolled the paper and found himself looking at the most beautiful drawing of himself, Ben, Hunter and Jenny Rebecca.

"It's excellent. Thank you Justin."

Justin just smiled again.

"Well sit down Sunshine," Debbie said, practically forcing him onto the seat. "I'll get you a drink and you can tell us about your trip."

"Yeah, er. Where's Brian?"

"He didn't tell you?" Debbie asked.

"Tell me what?"

"Gus has broken his arm. He's gone to stay with them for a few days."

"Oh." Justin's whole face fell. Then forcing a smile he continue, "well, I've hardly spoken to him since I left so…." Debbie just gave him a sympathetic smile and touched his face lovingly.

"I'm sorry honey," she whispered, before returning to her serving.

The diner was buzzing. Emmet and Ted were taking the piss out of Michael for being another year closer to that first grey hair and everyone was asking Justin about New York. Everyone seemed so happy, this was after all a celebration but Justin didn't feel much like celebrating. It wasn't long before he was making an excuse to leave.

--

Justin walked away from the diner, his hands buried deep in his pockets. He heard his name being called but he kept walking because, by now, there were a few tears running down his face and he didn't want people to see him as a pathetic faggot. He walked until a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He span him round and found himself face to face with Michael. He quickly dried his eyes with his sleeve.

"What?" he snapped.

"I'm sorry," Michael whispered, because now, faced with his crying kid, he didn't know what else to say.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Justin sighed. "It's just a series of unfortunate circumstances."

Michael nodded.

"You know," Justin spoke slowly, "when I first met Brian, I felt like everything in the world was pushing us together. Just one unlikely event after another meaning we ended up living together and staying together."

Michael smiled, he remember it all only too well.

"But now," Justin continued, "it's like everything is pulling us apart. Like Thursday, my friend Kelly managed to trick me in to ringing him but he was in the middle of some meeting and never called back."

"Thursday? Well, that was the day he went to Canada for Gus."

Justin nodded sorrowfully. "Of course it was, like I said. Everything's trying to keep us apart." He looked at the ground, scuffing his shoe against the sidewalk. There was a silence that became more and more awkward as the time stretched on until Justin said, "So, Happy Birthday Michael." And left.

Michael watched him go, just like he'd watched Brian go uttering the same parting phrase before walking away with exactly the same dejected slump to their shoulders. Michael knew that they were perfect for each other, if he believed in fate, he'd probably say that they were destined to be together. But he didn't believe and as time went on, it was seeming less and less likely they'd be together again. Just as Justin disappeared from sight, Michael found his vision obscured by two large, leather-gloved hands and in his ear, Brian's voice whispered; "Guess who?"

* * *

"He's here?" Brian asked again when Michael explained.

"Yes."Brian paused for a second before declaring, "well, this isn't about him. This is about your birthday and the fact I've haven't missed a single one since I've known you."

"Brian, don't be an asshole. Go and see him."

"HOW!? Michael!" Brian exploded. "How? Did you ask him where he was staying? There are a million and one hotels in Pittsburgh. I'd never find him." Brian finished calmly running his hand through his hair. "And anyway," he added, "what's the point in clinging on to something that's already over? It's like Justin said, everything's against us."

"When's that ever stopped you before?" Michael demanded.

"Stop trying to fix things Michael!" Brian snapped, making his friend jump and his eyes grow wider with fear. Brian looked at his friend and blinked once very slowly before continuing calmly, "you're always trying to make things better, but you can't fix this Michael. It's not a grazed knee you can stick a Band-Aid over and it's not a grey hair you can dye away. It's life. And life isn't always a fucking fairytale."

"Okay. I'm sorry. Just come join the party."

Brian looked up at he diner with it's hideously decorated interior and it's happy party goers and it's noise and happiness. He shook his head.

"I'm not really in the mood for celebrating. But you go. Have fun growing old with the man you … love."

--

Justin lay on the lumpy mattress, staring up at the leaky ceiling. He wished Brian would knock on the door and burst in telling him to pack up his shit and get moving. It would be just like the time he ran away to New York, except of course this time he's running away_ from_ New York. There was a knock at the door and for a split second, Justin dared to dream but as he opened the door his dream was crushed by a waiter presenting him with room service.

"Thanks," Justin said, tipping the man before shutting the door and returning to his bed. He'd ordered a burger and chips because it had been the cheapest thing on the over priced menu. He was surprised this tacky motel even _had _room service. If this slum he was holed up in could be called a room. It was more of a breezeblock cell with some threadbare carpet thrown haphazardly across the floor and an old rusty bed and shoved in the corner. It was all he could afford now he was a starving artist. Starving being the optimum word. He wolfed down the burger and the five fries he'd been given and looked glumly at his empty plate. He'd give anything to be in the diner being overfed by Debbie, or in the loft gorging himself on Chinese takeaways with Brian. He missed Pittsburgh. He missed his old life.

Just then, there was a knock at his door. He got to his feet slowly. Maybe it was the waiter again with free dessert. Well, he could dream. He unlocked the door, opened it slowly and gasped.

"Hey Sunshine. Nice room."

--

They'd hardly exchanged any more words than; "What are you doing here?" and "I came to see you." It had just been wild, passionate kissing and lots and lots of fucking until both were too worn out to do anything other than light a cigarette and fill the room with smoke.

"That was … amazing," Justin said eventually, shifting himself so he had his head half resting on Brian's chest, his fingers walking up and down the older man's torso.

"Mmm," Brian hummed and Justin knew he agreed.

"I've missed you."

"Come on, there must be lots of hot guys in New York."

"Oh, there are. Just none I really like and most of them are straight."

"If most of them are straight then, you're not looking hard enough."

"I don't want to look harder."

"There's nothing wrong with looking hard," Brian grinned, grabbing Justin crotch. The younger man laughed and batted Brian's hands away.

"That's not what I want though."

"You don't want to be hard?" Brian raised an eyebrow straining his neck so he could look at his former lover.

"What I mean is," Justin sighed lifting his head a little to hold Brian's gaze. "I want you."

Brian closed his eyes, allowed his head to fall back to the virtually non-existent pillow and sighed. But he didn't say anything. As far as he was concerned there was nothing to say. He felt Justin's head fall back on to his chest and he felt his lips kissing the skin there.

"I'm thinking of coming back here," Justin announced after a while, splaying his hand across Brian's chest almost possessively.

"To the Pitts? Why, when you've got the bright lights of New York calling to your artistic talent?"

"But no one's paying any attention to my _artistic talent_."

"Well that is the burden of being an artist. No one recognises you until you're dead."

"That's not true."

"It is," Brian groaned pushing himself up so he was leaning against the broken headrest. "Look at Van Gogh. He works his ass off all his life, dies poor and then, after he's dead someone realises the man's an undiscovered genius, much like … you, and he becomes a worldwide success. All the money that should be going to him goes to his estate, who are also known as the lucky fuckers who live off his talent and hard work."

Justin looked at Brian for a moment or two, as though trying to digest exactly what was being said.

"Are you saying," he asked eventually, "that the best way to help my art is to kill myself?"

"It's an option," Brian shrugged.

Justin gave a breathy laugh and let his fingers run through Brian's sweaty hair, kissing the soft skin of his neck moving upwards slowly until his lips found Brian's ear. He whispered hot and breathy,

"There _is_ another option."

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"I could not go back."

Brian's expression flickered with doubt for just a second before questioning,

"And what would you do instead?"

"Stay here, with you. We could go back to how it was … It could last forever."

"All that New York air is warping your young, impressionable mind. Nothing lasts forever. And I already told you, I don't want to be with someone who sacrifices their life and calls it love."

"Well what about someone who sacrifices their love and calls it life?" Justin cried, gettin up suddenly. His voice had fallen into that high-pitched whiney tone it did when he was trying not to cry. Brian just looked at him. He didn't know what to say to that. It was strange. He always had the answers. He knew he had to do what was best for Justin, the problem was, he didn't know what was best for him anymore. He reached out and grabbed the younger man's wrist, pulling him gently back onto the mattress before moving behind him and wrapping his arms around him. He rested his head on his shoulder and kissed the bare skin of his neck. He hoped that would be answer enough for now.

* * *

"Someone looks like they were up all night fucking," Michael noted as Brian slumped into the chair next to him in the diner.

"Someone was up all night," Brian confirmed, "but I only spent two thirds of it fucking."

Emmet and Ted just rolled their eyes. Same old Brian. It seemed like he was never going to change.

"So what were you doing for the remaining third?" Ted asked.

"Thinking."

"Always a dangero-" Ted stopped mid-word when he saw the death glare Brian shot him. He coughed and said, "I mean, thinking about what?"

Brian's eyes flicked from Michael to Ted and to Emmet. He saw identical expressions on their three faces, they were expecting him to tell some crazy story involving something insane like an orgy or an arrest but the truth was he'd been up all night worrying, like some pathetic house whore.

"Nothing," he answered; and, "hey Deb! Can I get some goddamn coffee?"

"On it's way … asshole!"

Brian rolled his eyes muttering, "you can always count on Debbie for service with a smile," before picking up his mug and fiddling with it absentmindedly in a failing attempt to ignore the concerned glances his friends were exchanging around him.

--

The atmosphere was awkward between the four of them. Brian's state of mind, his heartbreak and his life weren't just an elephant in the room, they were a rainbow elephant in a pink tutu and matching hat. No one knew what to say and then, the door to the diner opened and things got ten times more awkward, as though the elephant had donned some dancing shoes and had started doing the foxtrot around the diner.

"Justin," Debbie smiled, "I thought you were going back to New York today."

"Oh, I decided to extend my trip. There's still a few things I haven't done, people I haven't seen," he looked over at Brian, "things I haven't decided on yet."

Debbie followed his gaze and frowned a little when she met with the brown eyes of Pittsburgh's biggest whore. Well, ex-biggest that particular title had passed over to Brandon along with the deeds to Babylon, it turned out the boy had some money tucked away. Seemed like the thumpa-thumpa of Babylon really would never die. There was always another Brian Kinney waiting in the wings, ready to step into Babylon's leading role.

"I was thinking," Justin continued, loudly so that Brian couldn't help but overhear despite the fact Justin was following Debbie to the bar, "I may not go back to New York. There's nothing there for me."

"Jesus, lower your voice to a bellow. Who are you telling? Me or the people of china."

"Sorry," Justin hung his head a little.

"Or Brian?" Debbie said, softly enough so that only Justin could hear it.

"What?"

"You want him to ask you to stay? To tell you not to leave again?"

Justin shrugged and looked down at the bar. "I don't know," he mumbled. "Maybe, yeah."

"Well, you know he won't do that. He won't try to influence your decision in anyway. He'd never stop you from following your dream however much it hurts him. Hurts both of you," she clarified. "You gotta remember Sunshine, no one here's gonna make any decisions for you. You gotta do it for yourself. But honey, don't be blinded by love. Try to … I can't believe I'm gonna say this but, try to be like Brian, switch off your emotions. Or at least don't let them fool you into making the wrong decision."

"I'm an artist Deb. I can't turn off my emotions." He turned to look at Brian, just as the older man stood up and left, leaving the tip on the table. He thought about going after him but he could see Michael already pulling on his jacket and sighed. Maybe that wasn't his place anymore, maybe Pittsburgh wasn't his place anymore.

--

"You're not even gonna talk to him?" Michael asked, jogging to catch up with Brian's long strides.

"About what? The weather? The day? The shit food they serve in the diner?"

"What about his art and New York?"

"I don't know shit about art. And I have no interest in New York. Now," he smiled a little, putting his hand on the back of Michael's neck and pulling him closer until their foreheads met, "get out of my face." He turned and started to walk off but Michael wasn't finished yet.

"What's wrong with you!? You haven't even spoken to him since he got back."

Brian laughed, that cruel laugh that made Michael feel about five years old. "You don't know anything, Michael. And how many times do I have to tell you? Stay out of it!"

"But it's obvious you need someone to talk to."

"I don't _need _anyone; not you and certainly not Justin. Now. Leave. Me. Alone. And tell Ted, if he's not in work by," he checked his watch, "nine thirty, he's fired."

"But that's in ten minutes. He'll never make it."

"Tell him to run," Brian smirked cruelly, "fast."

Michael just watched his friend as he stormed off down the street.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Please Review?? x**


	4. Chapter 4

Michael had been staring at a knot in his desk for over ten minutes. He couldn't seem to draw his eyes away from it, not that it was interesting or significant or even worth staring at. It was just something to focus on rather than his best friend's failing life. Suddenly, the bright colours of the final copy of rage flashed into his view.

"That'll be $3.99," he said robotically, not even bothering to look up.

"There seems to be a misunderstanding. I don't wanna buy it. I want to give it a rebirth. Rage volume 2. What do you think?"

Michael looked up to see Justin grinning back at him holding a few Rage-style sketches in his hands. "Look," he said dropping them onto the desk. "I was thinking, JT could go somewhere, like another planet…"

"or another state?" Michael translated.

"…to try and find himself and become a sculptor…"

"or a artist?"

"… but when he gets there he realises he doesn't need to find himself because he already has, in Gayopolis…"

"Pittsburgh."

"…because he loves Rage…"

"Brian."

"..and not even his art, er, I mean sculpting, is enough to fill the hole that was created when JT left Brian behind."

"You mean Rage."

"Right, Rage."

"It's an interesting story. JT torn between his love and his life. But how does it end?"

"I was hoping you could tell me," Justin sighed.

"You know, Brian won't let you give up your dream to be with him."

"I know."

"In fact, he'd probably say something like, 'you're queers, not dykes and not some married couple'."

"We almost were though," Justin sighed looking at the floor. "Michael?"

"What?"

"I know that I could be making the worst decision of my life. So how do I decide?"

"How did you make decisions before?"

"Usually argued with Brian about it until I realised he was right."

"He's not always right, Justin. Sometimes he's just … persuasive."

Justin nodded but said nothing.

"You know, you could talk to the happy homos," Michael suggested.

"Who?"

"Lindsey and Melanie. Give them a call."

"Right," Justin smiled, "yeah . Of course."

--

Hunter dropped the final card on the table and grinned widely.

"I win," he cheered, "… again."

"Alright, no need to rub it in," frowned Michael.

"Ooo. Someone's a bad looooooooooooooooser!"

"I said shut it, Hunter!""Now, now boys," Ben chuckled from where he was doing a crossword on the sofa. "Play nice."

"It's not me, blame him. He's been in a bad fucking mood ever since his birthday. Thirty five's not _that _old Michael!"

"I told you to **shut up!"** Michael roared leaping to his feet so violently he sent his chair flying backwards and the cards on the table to fly everywhere.

"Shit," breathed Hunter, taking a few steps away from his dad as he started to pull at his own hair. Hunter felt Ben's hand on his shoulder and a $20 bill waved in front of his face. "Why don't you go out for a while?"

"Sure," Hunter nodded, legging it out of the house.

Ben didn't say anything for a while, he just let Michael tug at his own hair and t-shirt and fingers until he'd calmed down a bit.

"What's wrong?" Ben asked calmly.

"It's Brian and Justin."

"I thought it might be. You know, you can't feel responsible for what's going on in their lives."

"But Brian's my responsibility. He's _so_ hurt and there's nothing I can do about it."

"You can be a good friend, like you always are."

"But whenever I bring up Justin, he pushes me away."

"Well, maybe then he doesn't need to think anymore about Justin. Why don't you help him take his mind off things?"

"How?"

"Well, what do you guys do together?"

"Go to Babylon."

"Is that it?"

"Sometimes we eat so much food we nearly puke."

"Perfect," smiled Ben. "Do that. Go around there, feast on Burger Queen and Chinese take out and don't mention Justin once."

Michael nodded.

--

"You've only been there 6 months, you can't expect to be a star yet. These things take time," Lindsey soothed, down the phone. "You know, most artists don't become famous until after their dead."

"That's just what Brian said."

"Brian?" she asked surprised, "I didn't think you two had spoken."

"We haven't. Not really. We fucked but then I tried to talk about coming back to Pittsburgh for good and he shut me out."

"Don't take it personally," Melanie said, "he's been doing that a lot recently."

"Mel!" Lindsey scorned.

"What? It's true. When he was here he hardly said a word to either of us, just sat playing and talking with Gus."

"He was fine."

"He's not fine," whined Justin. "He's miserable … And it's my fault. I love him. I made him love me. I begged him to ask me to commit to me, to become monogamous and when he finally said he would, I left. I hate myself."

"Well, don't," Lindsey said firmly. "Brian doesn't hate you. And if you ask me, you made the right decision. You've got a real talent, Justin. Sometimes I think even you don't realise quite how good you are. And Brian won't let you give up your art and your dreams for him."

"That's exactly what Michael said."

"Then believe it," Lindsey said encouragingly. "Go back to New York, become a star."

"And don't forget about us, when you're making millions," Melanie added.

"Hmm, well, I'd better go. This phone call is costing me a fortune."

"Alright, and come up and see us soon."

"I would if I could find the money. I'd love to see Gus."

"Well, you never know, he might just come and see you."

Justin smiled. "Are you guys thinking of coming down?"

"Maybe."

"That'd be great. Right, I've really gotta go. Bye."

"See you." Lindsey hung up the phone and looked at Melanie. "Poor kid," she sighed.

"I know. And, I can't believe I'm going to say this but, poor Brian."

"Excuse you?"

"Well, he loves Justin so he's gonna find it hard to tell him to go even if he knows it's right."

"Mmm. I might give him a ring later. See how he's getting on."

"You miss him, don't you?"

"Who?"

"Don't give me that bullshit missy. You miss Brian."

"He's Gus' father," Lindsey shrugged ruffling her sons hair lovingly.

"Look, you don't have to hide your love for Brian from me. I accepted that a _long _time ago. Just don't expect me to ever understand it, kay?"

Lindsey grinned up at her partner, her loving wife. "I love you," she smiled.

* * *

Michael pulled at the sliding door and wasn't surprised that it wasn't locked. Brian didn't seem to remember things like safety anymore. He'd almost entirely given up the use of crosswalks and traffic lights didn't seem to apply to him either. He'd become a reckless fool but at least his flat was clean. More than clean, it almost looked unlived in except for the stale smell of smoked weed and Jack Daniels.

"Brian," he called nervously, putting the food carefully on the floor. "Brian, I've brought some food."

He heard a rustling movement from the bedroom and suddenly Brian appeared butt-naked, scratching his stomach lazily.

"Brian!" Michael protested.

"What?" Then looking down he smirked before adding, "Oh," and "you never used to complain."

"That was before I was a happily married man."

"Ah yes. How is the professor?"

"He's fine," Michael said passing Brian a pair of jeans and trying not to stare too long at his perfect cock. Brian pulled on the trousers and put a hand on Michael's shoulder leaning heavily on him.

"You know, I was nearly married, once upon a time…"

"You're drunk."

"…but luckily I was pulled from the jaws of happiness at the eleventh hour. Thank God! Who knows what I would have done if I'd been condemned to play out the rest of my years in wedded bliss?" Brian strolled over to the sofa, flopped dramatically onto it and stared at the mountain of food.

"What's all this?" He gestured vaguely to the various boxes of junk food.

"It's for us?"

"Do you know how long I'll have to spend on the treadmill if we eat all that?"

"You don't look like you've eaten in a long time. You must be hungry."

"Fasting monks aren't that hungry," Brian scorned.

"What about tired old queens?"

"I don't know, ask Emmet or Theodore."

"I was talking about you."

"I know, I'm not drunk enough to miss your not-so-subtle insults. What is this about?"

"It's about me and you, spending time together as best friends."

"Really?" Brian asked cocking his eyebrow sceptically.

"Yeah."

Brian's eyes narrowed but he didn't say anything else. He just opened the pizza box and eyed the Hawaiian pizza inside.

"My favourite," he smirked, "but then, you always did know what I liked Mikey."

"Well we've known each other forever."

"Nothing's forever," Brian said, prodding Michael hard in the chest, "that's been made very clear."

--

"And do you remember the time that Sheryl Manson asked you to the prom?"

Brian snorted in disgust. "Oh god," he groaned.

"She was about three years older than us, remember. And you told her you'd go…"

"if she grew a cock." they finished in unison.

"Well," Brian sighed, "she tried but it just didn't work. A purple strap-on just isn't as hot as either she or I had hoped for."

"I still can't believe she did that."

"It's not the first time someone's done something crazy to get my attention. Justin won King of Babylon, Hunter fucked a murderer and you … well, you did a whole load of crazy things. You even ran off with a … chiropractor."

"That wasn't about you."

"Sure it wasn't," Brian said in a way that showed he clearly didn't believe his friend. "And you came back because of Pittsburgh's fantastic cultural advantages. It's fine cuisine and upstanding citizens."

"Mock me all you want, you're not the centre of my universe."

"Anymore."

"Huh?"

"I'm not the centre of your universe _anymore_. Which is probably a good thing. I was getting kinda dizzy watching everything revolve around me."

Michael just shook his head in a way he hoped seemed disapproving but he knew his lips were letting him down by curling up into a bemused grin.

"You know, I'm happy for you, Mikey."

"You are?"

"Yeah. Happy you found someone to make _you_ happy. Someone to grow old and wifely with."

"You know, sometimes I can't tell if you're being serious."

Brian sighed and looked at his friend before kissing him firmly on the lips. It's Brian's only known technique of getting his point across. "I'm happy for you," he repeated determinedly. "You deserve it. You deserve everything." Brian held his head for a few moments, their foreheads pressed together. "I love you Mikey."

"Love you too."

"Always have, always will."

Just then, the phone rang and Brian flopped backwards and reached his hand blindly towards the table. He flapped around, knocking stuff everywhere until his hand fell on the receiver.

"Hello."

"Bri? It's Linds. You have to talk to Justin. He's gonna give up his dream for you. He's going to ruin his life."

--

Justin had made his decision. He could draw and paint in Pittsburgh just as well as he could in New York, better even because he had Brian to inspire him. If he ever wanted to show his work off he could go to New York to do so, okay it was a long trip but it was doable maybe once or twice a month. He was so excited by his decision he almost ran to the loft. As he got out of the lift, he found something that made him have to swallow back his tears.

There was a boy, maybe a year younger than himself, with blonde hair and a great ass standing just inside the door.

"Is Brian here?" Justin asked, trying to push past the boy.

"Woah, who the hell are you?"

"My name's Justin. Who are you?"

"Alex. And you're not walking into my home."

"_Your_ home?"

"Yeah."

"Since when?"

"I'm moving in today with my boyfriend. Well, he won't admit he's my boyfriend but he is."

Justin just nodded. He felt like something sharp was piercing his heart. Brian really had moved on and this boy had moved in. Justin had entertained the nightmare that Brian might replace him but he had truly believed he'd meant more than a convenient fuck by the end. Brian had asked or maybe that should be offered to marry him, to keep him happy. But this was Brian Kinney, he didn't do settling down and he didn't do waiting for people. What he did do was pretty, young blonde boys with a tight ass.

Suddenly, Brian appeared, walking awkwardly down the steps from his bedroom, in sweatpants and vest. He had a just-got-laid glow about him and a smirk on his lips."Ah, Justin. You've met Alex," Brian put his arm around the boy's shoulders and splayed a hand across his chest. "He's a persistent little shit … just like you."

Justin didn't need to hear anymore. He turned and ran down the stairs. He ran as fast as he could away from Brian, away from Pittsburgh, away from love.


	5. Chapter 5

Justin kept running even when the stitch that was pulling at his side became a crippling pain building up into his neck and stomach. Even though his legs protested in agony. Even though he could barely see through the waterfall of tears. He wasn't going to stop.

He couldn't believe Brian would do that. He couldn't believe he'd move on so quickly. He'd never felt so angry in all his life. He tried to lose himself in the feeling of his heart trying to break out through his rib cage, of his eardrums pounding his head of his feet colliding time after time with the cold, hard sidewalk but everything was being drowned out by his thoughts. He was so lost in his anger, he couldn't even hear the beeping of a car horn behind him or Brian's voice yelling at him to stop.

Eventually the car had pulled up alongside him and it was impossible to ignore Brian any longer.

"What are you doing you little twot?" Brian demanded. "You've made me break sweat all over my best Armani shirt."

"Your Armani shirt?" Justin almost laughed because if he didn't, he'd cry even more. "Your Armani shirt? I couldn't give a fuck about your fucking Armani shirt."

"Alright, I get it. What's wrong with you?"

"Oh, as if you don't know."

"Know what?"

Justin stopped marching and turned to glare at the older man.

"I stupidly thought that maybe I meant something to you. I thought that," he stopped. He couldn't finish that sentence without sounding like some silly, fantasising faggot. "I don't know what I thought!" Justin yelled. He pulled at his hair angrily before turning back to glare at Brian, "how could I have been so stupid?"

"Ah, well that's a question we could spend years answering."

Justin's face fell. His jaw tightened and he wore a scowl that made Brian shudder before shouting,

"Fuck you Brian. Fuck you!" With that, he turned on his heels and stormed off down an alley way.

Brian opened the door and leant out as far as he could.

"I'd rather fuck you," he yelled, watching carefully as Justin's marching slowed to a halt. He knew they were making a scene but he didn't care. He needed Justin to listen, he didn't care about everyone else.

"What?" Justin asked, refusing to turn around.

"I said I'd rather fuck you … in New York."

Justin didn't move for a moment and Brian wondered if he'd heard but it was clear he had when he turned around slowly and looked straight at him. "What?"

"I said, I'm moving to New York," Brian explained, getting out of the car properly and leaning against the bonnet as though he were oh so relaxed and not as though his heart were pounding at a million beats per second or vomit with nerves at any moment.

"What?" Justin repeated again, walking slowly back towards the car.

"Have you lost the ability to understand English?"

"No."

"So stop saying 'what'."

"What?"

Brian scowled and Justin couldn't help smile in response.

"Okay then, why?"

"Well, I've got all the good clients Pittsburgh has to offer and I don't need to be here to do most of their ad campaigns. There's more work in New York more businesses to exploit and I've just got a multi-million dollar account with NY cosmetics. Now tell me, what the hell is in Pittsburgh that would make me want to stay?"

"Babylon."

"Sold it."

"Your friends, your family."

"They'll be here when I visit. When _we _visit," he clarified.

"What are you saying?"

"Nothing, just that … I've bought an apartment in New York. As big as the loft, just as designer architecturally and there's a spare room, if you're looking for a place to stay."

"A spare room?" Justin questioned dejectedly.

"Yeah. If you want it."

"Right," Justin sighed, looking at the ground. Brian's hand went to the younger man's face and lifted his head slowly so he was looking right at him.

"I thought maybe you could turn it into a studio for your art or something."

"Are you serious?"

Brian just nodded.

"You're moving to New York?"

Brian nodded again.

"Just like that. No planning?"

"Oh I've been planning it for a while," Brian promised, "all of, I don't know, six months?"

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"So what about the kid in your flat?"

"New tenant. He's moving in with his rich, successful _non_-boyfriend because his dad's kicked him out. Sound familiar?"

"Just a bit," Justin grinned.

"So … if we're moving in together … again. What's that the forth time now?"

"Something like that," Justin smiled.

"Do you wanna get married?"

Justin stared at the man ahead of him. They'd been through this before. Marriage. But the more Justin thought about it the more he realised,

"I don't need a ring or a cheesy ceremony in front of our friends to know that you love me. I'm okay with just … knowing."

Brian nodded slowly and looked at the floor, "okay then," he smiled. "Fuck marriage."

"Fuck marriage," Justin agreed laughing.

"Fuck the heteros and fuck their traditions. We're queers and if we're together it's because we wanna be."

"Exactly."

"And I _know_," Brian said solemnly, his hand catching Justin's neck and forcing him to look at him, "I only wanna be with you."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Brian."

"I can keep this one," Brian promised.

"How do you know?" Justin asked, a look of resignation on his face.

"Because … because I love you, Justin Taylor and I want you to be the only guy I ever fuck … from now on."

Justin couldn't hide the surprise and shock from showing on his face.

"But just to warn you," Brian said slowly, "that's gonna involve a _lot _of fucking."

Justin just laughed and reached up onto his tip-toes to capture the sweet kiss he'd been yearning for.

* * *

"You're moving to New York?" Michael asked again.

This was probably the third time he'd repeated the question but he really had nothing else to say. Brian had decided to make the announcement at the diner. If he told everyone at the same time. It would cut out the shit of having to explain his reasoning over and over again, especially when his main reason was as embarrassing as 'he was in love'. That wasn't something he ever wanted to repeat, especially not in public.

He'd expected confused reactions. He'd expected questions. He'd even expected Michael to queen out about it but he'd never expected the Spanish Inquisition … who does?

"Have you thought this through?" Ted asked, "what about your finances?"

"Never mind finances, what about your family?" Debbie demanded.

"And nights out fucking everything in Babylon?" Emmett agreed.

"You're moving to New York!" was all Michael could manage.

"God Mikey. It's not that difficult a concept."

"B-but, why?"

"The same reason I've ever done anything in my life. Because I want to. Because there's big money in it and because if I go, I'm guaranteed a fuck whenever I want one," he turned and smiled knowingly at Justin, who just grinned back.

"Look, are you sure about this?"

"What about the business?" That was Ted.

"What about your friends?" Debbie

"What about me?" Michael. Brian sighed and answered each question in order.

"I'm sure. Business can only get better if I'm set up in New York. I'll come back and visit my friends all the time and … you don't need me anymore Mikey. You've got Ben," he looked at the professor, "and you've got Hunter," he shoved Michael's adopted son lightly in the shoulder. "You've got a really good life here. And now," he smirked, pulling Justin toward him so he could put his arm around his shoulders, "it's my turn."

"But I'm gonna miss you," Michael whined.

Brian nodded and stepped forward to kiss his best friend and as he broke apart he said, "it's not goodbye Mikey … just au revoir."

"Well you're not going without some kind of farewell party."

"I'll organise it," Emmett cried. "We can have…"

"There's not going to be a farewell party," Brian cut in. "We have to be at the airport in ten minutes."

"Well you really don't waste time, do you?" Debbie said and if Brian didn't know any better, he'd have sworn there were tears in her eyes.

"You know me Deb, life's too short."

"Especially at his age," Justin grinned. Debbie did sob then and pulled them both into a choking hug, hissing,

"You take care of one another, you got it? You've got a good thing going here. Don't fuck it up."

"I won't," Justin promised.

"I wasn't talking to you, Sunshine."

"I won't either," Brian sighed, rolling his eyes and earning himself a smack round the head.

"I mean it," Debbie warned, waving her finger complete with orange nail varnish in front of his nose. "You take good care of this kid."

"Don't worry," Brian reassured her, pulling Justin in front of him and wrapping his arms around him from behind. He lowered his voice, his lips brushing the younger man's ear. "I'll make sure his every wish, need and desire are satisfied. Time after time, night after night."

Justin grinned and turned to face him and they shared a kiss.

"Alright, alright. Save it for the plane," Debbie winked.

"Yeah, maybe there's some poor cabin boy the two of you can traumatize," Emmet agreed."Not anymore," Justin beamed proudly. "We've decided to become entirely monogamous."

"We'll see how long that lasts," muttered Michael and everyone turned to shoot him death rays.

"Have you got something you want to say, _Mikey_?" Brian asked, letting Justin go and turning to his friend.

"No. Only that you're crazy."

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. "Pardon."

"I said you're crazy."

"And why is that?"

"You two break up all the time. There's no way you'll stay monogamous what if another violinist comes along?"

Justin felt his stomach drop. He blushed furiously.

"That was a long time ago," he spat, "and it was a mistake."

"Well what if you make another _mistake_?"

"Michael, shut up," warned Brian.

"Or what if you decide to leave again because it'll be best for your art?"

"Michael," Debbie gasped.

"Don't stick up for him! Everyone always sticks up for him. Both of them. I'm sick of it. You're both living in some fantasy land. Brian Kinney doesn't settle down and become monogamous and _you,_" he spat the word like venom, and poked Justin hard in the chest, "you can't commit to anything. How many times have you left Brian in the past?"

"That's not fair," Justin cried.

"He only left when I told him too," Brian said slowly. "And sometimes not even then."

"He could leave you at any time Brian and then you'd have nothing. Aren't you worried about that?"

"No," Brian answered simply.

"How can you trust him?"

"Because…" Brian screamed and then stopped. He looked Michael up and down and said calmly, "I don't have to explain myself to you."

"But it's so impulsive!"

"It's not impulsive Mikey," he said calmly. "How long have I talked about going to New York?"

"Well … I …."

"Exactly, forever. It's always been my number one dream. Get out of the Pitts, don't come back. And maybe I wouldn't have gone without Justin but that doesn't mean this is an impulsive thing. I've wanted this forever, Michael you know that."

"But I need you here! Michael and Brian, just like it's always been, like it's always meant to be."

Brian blinked slowly, his jaw tightening. "Not anymore," he whispered before leaving the diner without another word.

"You're so selfish," Justin spat. "He'd never dream of stopping you from doing anything. He'd never ask you to give up anything for him. If you really loved him, you'd let him go … and stop being an asshole." And with that he chased Brian down the street.

Michael sat down.

"Can you believe that?" he demanded to the remainder his friends. They all looked away suddenly very interested in the floor tiles and the ceiling, that new plant by the counter and the tacky red plastic seats. Their silence said more that words ever could and Michael sighed. Maybe he'd been a bit unreasonable.


	6. Chapter 6

"So I was thinking, the first thing we should do when we arrive is get my stuff. You can meet Kelly, she's really nice, and then we can go to your place, well _our _place, and drop off the stuff … maybe christen the bedroom and," Justin spotted the glazed expression on Brian's face, "are you listening to me?"

"Hmm, yeah."

"Liar," sighed Justin, slapping Brian's in the stomach playfully before shifting in his chair for the millionth time. He knew it was annoying Brian, he could see it in the way Brian sighed every time he wriggled about but the course material of the chair was scratching through his pants and his legs were numb from all the sitting around they'd been doing.

The airport system had always had been a stupid one, arrive an hour and a half before the flight takes off, but with all the latest terror threats a plane journey to New York had become as difficult as a bus journey to Mars. Justin had thought, on the way here, that he and Brian could have found plenty to do in the bathroom to while away the time but Brian didn't seem in the mood and that scared him more than any potential terrorist threats. He edged closer to Brian, trying to offer some sort of comfort. He was aware that there was a certain level of disgust from some of the people around them but he ignored them. They weren't worth it and besides, Brian needed him right now.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Brian lied, his hands grasping his cardboard cup of now cold Starbucks so tight the tips of his fingers were white. "I'm fine."

"Then could you tell your face. You look like you're at a funeral."

"M'just tired and this coffee's for shit," he added holding up his drink.

"Of course, it's the coffee that's annoying you."

"Well, what else would it be?"

"I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with what Michael said."

"Him? No. He's just upset because the love of his life is jetting off to the city that never sleeps with the love of his," Brian stopped mid-soppy statement and ended it instead with, "you."

"For a second there I thought you were going to be all romantic."

"For a second there you thought wrong. Anyway, he had no right to say those things to you."

"He was just looking out for you."

"You don't have to defend him."

"It's hard to break a habit," Justin smirked. Brian just turned and kissed him deeply.

"Mmm," Justin hummed, when they broke apart, "what was that for?"

"Do I have to have a reason?"

"I know the reason."

"Oh?" Brian asked, eyebrow quirking.

"It's because you love me soooooo much."

Brian immediately rolled his eyes and flopped back in his chair. "Is it?" he sighed, in a distinctly bored manner.

"Yeah. You're even leaving your home just to be with me."

"I'm not leaving my home to be with you. I was going to New York anyway, you being there is just a coincidence. A pleasant coincidence but a coincidence nonetheless." He waited for a second, staring down at his cup of cold coffee, then at the floor, the shoes of other people, their disapproving faces before adding, "but when you say that I love you … you're not entirely wrong."

Justin grinned. "Is that it?"

"That's all I'm saying whilst the fucking breeders can overhear me."

"So later you're gonna fuck me and tell me how much you love me and need me and how you couldn't live without me?"

"Something like that," Brian sighed. By now, he was looking around like a bored puppy, which was something he did a lot as soon as the conversation turned to love. Justin just shook his head and leant over to kiss Brian on the cheek.

"I love you," he whispered in his ear.

"You don't have to keep telling me, I know."

"I'm just reaffirming, that's all. Making sure you don't forget."

"Well, how can I?" Brian asked gritting his teeth in a hideous grin. "You say it every five fucking minutes."

"Well I know how arrogant you are. If you're not told you're loved and you're perfect at least once every five minutes you'll go into some kind of fag breakdown where you fuck a whole load of hot, young guys to prove you're still the untameable Brian Kinney. The man everyone loves."

"Not entirely untameable. And not everyone."

"Michael _does _love you," Justin said firmly. "Whatever he said or made you think. He still loves you."

"I know, that's half the problem."

"And it's okay to admit that you love him too and that that's the reason," Justin took a deep breath and sighed heavily, " that's the reason you're having second thoughts."

Brian looked up sharply and stared at Justin.

"It's okay," the younger man continued. "If I were you, I'd be having second thoughts too. I mean, he's known you a lot longer than I have. If I were you, I'd choose him."

"Well, it's a good job you're not me then because if you did that, you'd be making the biggest fucking mistake of your life."

"What?"

"Missing Michael is just that. It's just missing him but missing you … that's torture. And I'm getting too old torture."

"I never thought I'd see the day Brian Kinney admitted he was too old for something."

"Mmm, I'm also too old for Disneyland."

"You're never too old Disneyland."

"God you're young."

"Just the way you like 'em."

Brian smiled and breathed out slowly, allowing his neck to flop over the back of his chair in a gesture of complete boredom.

"Where is this fucking plane?"

--

The curtains were drawn so that only a crack of mid-afternoon sunshine could leak through the gap. Michael sighed as he pulled his box of knickknacks from the chest at the end of his old room. He opened it up and began to pull out the old memories; _The _Patrick Swayze magazine, a picture of him an Brian stood in the garden, those leathers shorts from the first time they went to Babylon. There were maths books and history books each with something crude written on the back by Brian, many with various pictures of dicks drawn all over them. More pictures, snapshot after snapshot of his childhood, each one at Brian's side. That was where he was meant to be. Every memory Michael had, he'd shared with Brian and now they were being torn apart.

"He won't forget you, you know."

Michael jumped and looked up to see Debbie stood in the doorway.

"What are you talking about? Of course he will. Never look back, no apologies, no regrets."

"Exactly. He knows, just like you do that he'd regret not going."

"But…"

"You can't keep him here, Michael. Just like he couldn't keep you at Babylon. You've both grown up, you've both fallen in love but that doesn't mean you don't still love each other." Michael said nothing, he just returned his gaze to the photo in his hands. He felt the bed dip beside him and his mother's hand squeeze his shoulder softly. "You know, when you truly love someone, you have to let them go graciously … even if you don't want to."

"But what if Justin hurts him?"

"Then it'll be for them to sort out. D'you remember what happened the last time you tried to get involved?"

Michael rubbed his left eye as the memory of landing sprawled out on Mel and Lindsey's garden returned as quickly as the punch had arrived.

"Exactly," Debbie smiled, touching her son's face lightly. "Now, go and make amends before you really do regret it."

Michael looked at the clock on his wall. Shit. The plane would be leaving in ten minutes. Oh well, he had to try.

--

Michael had run, pushed people over and shouted at everyone who got in his way. He was convinced there was no way he would make it on time. The plane should have already boarded but he wouldn't give up hope until someone said it had left and then the voice of an angel came over the tannoy system,

"Flight 2345B to New York is now ready to board."

It must have been delayed. Michael ran to the front check in desk but he couldn't see Brian anywhere. He screamed his name, and although a lot of people turned to look at him, none of them were Brian.

No. Please, he begged to no one in particular, it can't be too late.

"Right this way Mr Kinney," he heard the fake-friendly voice of an air hostess. He turned around to see Brian and Justin following a bright orange woman, with thick, tacky red lipstick and a fake smile showing off pearly white teeth.

"Brian!" he yelled. Brian turned to look at him and stopped dead. He handed his bag to Justin and whispered something in his ear. Justin nodded and followed the woman onto the plane. Brian watched them go for a second and turned to stare at Michael. His hands slid into the pocket of his leather jacket and he pushed his elbows outwards in a weird shrug that said, 'so what do you want?'.

"What's all this?" Michael asked, walking quickly towards him and gesturing to the private entrance he and Justin seemed to have.

"You know how I hate waiting in lines," Brian shrugged. "Flash some cash, you walk straight on."

"You always did get your own way."

"Mmm."

"If you set your mind on something, nothing on earth's gonna stop you from having it."

Brian raised an eyebrow questioningly and Michael continued,

"I guess that includes Justin."

Brian rolled his tongue down the inside of his cheek and looked down at his Prada shoes. He had nothing to say and he felt no obligation to break the uncomfortable atmosphere that was creeping up on them. Brian could almost feel the wuiet tingling in his spine up and up until it blocked his ears and he was being deafened by the awkward silence.

"I'm sorry," Michael suddenly blurted.

"Sorry's bullshit," Brian said calmly. "You meant what you said."

"Well yeah, but only because I love you."

Brian nodded slightly and, looking straight into Michael's eyes, he said "I love you too, Mikey … But I've gotta do this."

"For him?"

"For me," Brian corrected firmly.

"Well, I know you wouldn't do anything you didn't want to," Michael sighed.

Brian smirked a little and lifted Michael's head so they were looking right at each other.

"I'm gonna miss you," Michael gasped. There was a lump in his throat so big it was painful to swallow and he felt like he might choke on it.

"Me too," Brian agreed before leaning forward and pressing his lips firmly to Michael's. "I'll see you soon Mikey. Fuck the professor for me."

And with that, he was gone.

* * *

**Thanks for reading!!! Probs will be some kind of Epilogue but I'm now sure what yettt… =]**

**Also, thinking of doing an AU fic based around College/Uni (being British I'm not sure what the difference is and was hoping one of you lovely lot could tell me =]) Also, how old do you have to be to go in a dance club in America (I know the drinking age is 21 but can you get into clubs at 18 or do you have to be 21)??**

**THANKS!!**

**xx**


	7. Chapter 7

Bleep, bleep. Bleep, bleep. Bleep, bleep.

Brian rolled over and whacked the alarm clock into silence before falling out of the bed and virtually crawling to his clothes. Well, that would teach him to stay up until six in the morning fucking. He contemplated staying quiet for Justin, the younger man didn't really have a particular time he needed to be up. He was an artist, he got up whenever the hell he felt like it and lounged around the two bedroom (now one bedroom and a studio) apartment all day slapping a bit of paint on a canvas or two before partying all night or sometimes fucking all night. But Brian was in a shitty mood, he had companies all over his ass demanding successful campaigns and quick. That was the drawback of being New York's biggest ad company. He pulled the covers off his partner and listened to Justin's groans of protest as though they were early morning birdsong.

"Come on," Brian said, slapping his perfect ass. "Get up."

Justin dug his knuckles into his eyes trying to force away the last remnants of sleep. "What for?" he mumbled.

"Because you're getting lazy."

"I'm an artist. I'm allowed."

"Get up!" Brian shouted louder, as he padded away to the bathroom to get a glass of water.

"I don't want to," Justin groaned, rolling over and pulling the duvet back around his shoulders. As he led in his cosy warm cocoon, he was lulled in a false sense of safety and muttered something about it being nice and warm.

"What was that?" Brian yelled, sipping his drink.

"I said fuck off, I'm not getting up."

"Tough," insisted Brian. He walked over to the bed, pulled back the cover and poured his glass of water right over Justin's unsuspecting face. The younger man squealed and spluttered with shock.

"Brian!" he yelled, sitting up and thumping his partner hard in the stomach.

"Oh good," he smirked, "you're awake."

Justin wiped the water off his face with his hands, muttering, "I hate you."

"Mmm, me too. Now, up."

"I was until you poured half the Pacific on my face."

"Don't be such a drama-princess, the Pacific is salty."

Justin just glared at Brian as he continued to walk around the apartment with no clothes on and seemingly no intention of putting any on.

"So why have you woken me up? And why aren't you getting ready for work?"

Brian looked up and smiled at Justin in a way that was half worrying and half exciting. Justin just frowned and watched carefully as Brian continued to stroll about as though he was looking for something.

"Brian what are you d-"

"Shhh," Brian hushed him, holding a hand up purposefully. "It's time."

"Time for what?" Justin asked, he really couldn't be bother with any cryptic Kinney games first thing in the morning. But Brian didn't answer he just hushed him again and picked up the thing he'd been looking for, his cell.

He held it up and pointed to it smugly. Right on cue, it began to ring.

"Mikey!" he called down the phone with a hint of annoyance and then in answer to Michael's question, "it's always you. You can't leave me alone."

From the bed, Justin chuckled to himself. Michael called Brian at least three times a day, four if it was a particularly good day or if Brian had hung up mid-conversation because he couldn't be fucked to listen to Michael talking anymore. Justin just stayed quiet and waited for Brian to finish his call before asking something that had been bugging him ever since they'd arrived in New York.

"Does Michael do anything other than call people?"

"What d'you mean?" Brian asked, tossing the cell onto the bedside table and climbing back into bed.

"Well," Justin said, though his trail of thought was being steered quite rapidly to the way Brian was kissing his shoulder, his chest, his nipples, stomach. "He rings you three times a day. He rings Debbie three times a day. Does he have time for anything … GOD! Don't stop that."But Brian did stop to say, "I thought you were making some excellent point about Mikey and his cell phone bill."

"I couldn't give a fuck about Michael or his fucking calls." And then whinging he added, "keep going."

Brian just grinned and resumed what he was doing. Justin groaned and writhed about and suddenly, Brian stopped again and rested his chin on that bit of skin between Justin's ribcage.

"What are you doing?" moaned Justin, his fingers playing idly with Brian's hair."I was just thinking, he must ring you at least once a day to check on Rage."

"Yeah, he does," Justin answered trying to encourage Brian to move back down his body.

"He really must spend all day on the phone," Brian frowned as though the concept was just too incomprehensible. "He could be fucking."

"So could we," Justin groaned and Brian laughed and flipped Justin easily onto his stomach.

"Better?" he whispered in his ear.

"Hmm-mm," Justin mumbled into the pillow. Just then, Brian's cell rang.

"Leave it," Justin growled and Brian chuckled as he reached over to check caller ID.

"I was going to."

"It'll just be Michael."

"It's not. It's work, wondering where I am. I'll tell them something came up," he smirked.

Justin grinned and looked back over his shoulder.

"Tell them you've got something that needs doing."

Brian chuckled and answered, telling his receptionist he'd _come_ as soon as possible.

Justin laughed to himself as Brian hung up. He wasn't sure how they'd got to this stage. He'd always known, ever since he first saw Brian, that he'd be the man he'd be with for the rest of his life. He'd never expected it to be such an uphill struggle and the more he'd gotten to know Brian the less he'd believe they would actually wind up together because, despite how much they loved each other, they'd always wanted different things. Okay, so occasionally, even now, they still fucked around but only with complete consent from the other, though often they were together on these once in a while strays from monogamy. It wasn't their fault, they were hot-blooded, young (and not-so-young anymore Mr Kinney despite what you might say) gay men in a new world of hot, horny homosexuals.

In time, when Brian hit forty and finally decided it really was time to stop clubbing (aka was beaten to his chosen trick by his boyfriend every fucking time) and Justin decided he'd 'had every fuckable man in this town' and there was only one guy he wanted more than once, they did settle down. They moved to a mansion-like house just outside New York and they lived there in wedded bliss for the rest of their lives. Though when the topic of children came up it was flatly denied. Gus' visits in the summer for the _entire_ summer ( since he'd realised his rich Dad and partner were pushovers compared to his mom's) were enough to keep both men occupied and as Brian pointed out, "if we had a kid, we couldn't freely fuck in every room of the house!"

* * *

**As you can probably tell, I'm pretty awful at ending fics! Haha.**

**Anyway, thank you SOOOOOOOO much for reading and reviewing - it means a lot! Thanks for the feedback and help and for making my first attempt at QAF fic a successful one!! I hope it wasn't TOO British!!**

**Love to you all!  
****xx**


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